this entire time
by dannachi
Summary: "In adherence to the theory of the multiverse, Sakura knew there had to be universes where she and Sasuke simply did not work out. Perhaps this was one of them." Oneshot. In which Sakura loves herself more than Sasuke cannot love her.


"Take your _fucking_ stuff!" she shouted.

A tin of his hair wax whizzed past him. Layer upon layer of darkly hued clothing flew over her shoulder. One of his books clocked him in the head.

Sasuke stood frozen at the door, watching the moonlight illuminate her quaking form, hearing her sniffles and gasps and shouts, and for the first time in a long time he had no idea what to do. And so he stood, allowing Sakura's tirade to run its course.

At the end of it, all his belongings were strewn across the floor of her apartment. There was a heavy silence, the air polluted with all the hateful words they had said to get to this point. Sasuke still had not made a move. Sakura slowly, shakily, rose to her feet and turned to face him.

"Take your things and go," she said with false calm. Her entire face seemed to glisten with tears; his heart lurched. "You can leave right now or you can sleep on the couch for the night–I don't care. Just get out of my sight and be out of here by morning."

He began, wordlessly, to gather his belongings.

"Goodbye, Sasuke."

* * *

They did not fight often. In fact, more often than not, they were on the same wavelength, thanks to their shared tendency towards logical thinking (unlike their blonde teammate). But in recent weeks they found themselves bickering much, much more, about little things that held greater importance if one looked underneath the underneath.

That night she had come home from a particularly grueling shift at the hospital–the aftermath of an escort mission gone terribly wrong–to find that her boyfriend had not made dinner. Or rather, that he _had_ made dinner–but he had neglected to save any for her.

And so, exhausted as she was, they fought.

A stern lecture about the importance of mindfulness quickly unraveled to a full-blown argument. Her ferocity on the battlefield was evident here, too: she was impassioned and furious and _god,_ was she loud. Sakura shouted a series of accusations against Sasuke: he was careless, he was stubborn, he was a terrible listener, he was terrified of commitment– "It's like I'm dating a rock!"

"Once again," he said, "I cannot be the boyfriend that lived in your fantasies."

"And _once again_ ," Sakura mimicked, her volume increasing further still, "I'm not asking for that! All I'm asking for is your compassion, your care, your _love_ –"

Her last word hung limp in the air. There was a deadly, damning silence, and then, quietly:

"Do you even love me?"

* * *

Secretly, she was thankful that he had chosen to leave the apartment. Her loneliness allowed her to sob without restraint.

After a particularly draining cry, Sakura slumped against the wall and played idly with her fingers, trying to pinpoint exactly when things went wrong. She had always, _always_ thought that, despite everything, the two would find their way to one another. And they did, once, after years and years of anger and heartache and ever-patient longing. But somewhere down the line they had lost each other once more.

In adherence to the theory of the multiverse, she knew that this was one of infinite stories of Sasuke and Sakura. There were worlds where their grand romance worked out–where the Uchiha massacre never occurred, or where Sasuke stayed in the village, or where he returned and learned compassion and love. She had believed as a fact that she lived in one of those worlds. But now, as she looked out at the crescent moon, she thought maybe she was wrong. There had to be universes where she and Sasuke simply did not work out. And perhaps this was one of them.

* * *

Oddly enough, Sasuke was not surprised to see the Hokage wandering the streets post-midnight. He almost expected it. Kakashi, with his hunched back and hands in his pockets, stopped his stroll and raised his eyebrows at the sight of his former student.

"Sasuke, huh…," Kakashi lilted. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Sasuke merely grunted, adjusting the straps on his knapsack and continuing forward.

Kakashi eyed him carefully–the tired eyes, the knapsack. Ah. Of course. The unthinkable had happened. As Sasuke's footsteps grew fainter, the silver-haired man called, "Did you tell her you love her?"

Sasuke faltered. Her tear-stained cheeks, her wide green eyes. " _Do you even love me?"_

After a short pause, the footsteps continued. So Kakashi added, "Contrary to what you may believe, she's happiest when she's with you."

 _Yeah, right._ Sasuke kept walking, as did Kakashi, and the two midnight walkers went on their separate paths.

* * *

The breakup was hard on their friends, as both had predicted. Naruto's reaction was bipolar–with Sasuke, he was all fists and kicks and yelling ("I told you not to hurt her, you fucking asshole!"), yet with Sakura, he was all comfort and ice cream and hugs.

Sakura sighed beside Naruto as he slurped his ramen. She wryly mused that Naruto must now be going to Ichiraku twice as often, to separately appease both his teammates. Judging by his voracious eating, he didn't seem to mind, but Sakura knew he must be upset. "Naruto," she began, "I'm sorry. About all of this. Sasuke and I, our… _problems_ shouldn't have to affect you."

He gulped down a mouthful of noodles and grinned. "Don't worry about me, Sakura-chan! I know you and Sasuke will be here with me again in no time!"

She smiled softly. It was a nice sentiment. But one she could not afford to believe.

* * *

The first time they saw one another since the ordeal was at the club, where Naruto had seemingly dragged half of Konoha to celebrate his and Hinata's engagement. Both hoped that the crowd would be dense enough to separate the two, but as fate had it, Sasuke found himself on the dance floor a mere yard away from Sakura.

And Sakura was dancing. With another man. And it was _dirty._

Sasuke knew he had no right to be angry. For all intents and purposes, the breakup was his fault. But still, he found himself livid, blinking hard to contain the Sharingan. As always, Sasuke's rage (and perhaps his blood alcohol content) led him to do something deranged: he stalked over to the grinding pair and ripped her body from (of _all people_ ) Kiba.

The girl gasped. "What the hell are you doing?" she shouted above the music.

Sasuke had no answer. He had no semblance of a clue what he was doing. If he said the words right here, right now, maybe she would ditch the dog man and come back to him. But he refused to indulge in such selfishness.

"So you can't love me," Sakura yelled, perhaps a little too drunk herself, "but you can _possess_ me? Control me? Fuck off, Sasuke! I don't belong to you! I'm not yours!" With that, she whirled back around to rub her hips against Kiba's.

She was right: she wasn't his, or at least, she was trying very hard not to be. Isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he decided was best for both of them? He knitted his brows and drunkenly considered telling her the truth, but he was not nearly drunk enough to actually do it.

Still, the sight of her "dancing" (honestly, it was more like dry-humping) with Kiba filled him with disgust. He quickly made his way to the bar for yet another drink.

* * *

As a testament to her medical capabilities, Sakura learned she was pregnant far faster than most women do, and with a certainty that civilian pregnancy tests could not provide.

Ironically enough, as new life began to grow within her, Sakura could only feel hollow. Hand on her stomach, she wondered if her and Sasuke's relationship would have played out any differently had she been pregnant just a few weeks earlier.

But she could not change the past. She reminded herself of the multiverse as she walked to her former mentor's house, allowing herself to imagine a life in which she and Sasuke could raise a child together. She knocked on Tsunade's door idly pondering what kind of father Sasuke would be.

Tsunade explained to Sakura that, despite her medical prowess, she had failed to notice that she was ectopic: the pregnancy was doomed to fail. "I'm sure you can operate on yourself," the woman said, watching Sakura with weary eyes (and seeing for the first time that her former student looked nearly as weary as she), "but you probably want me to do it."

Hours later, in bed, feeling as hollow as ever, Sakura sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, but could not identify exactly why.

* * *

Sasuke stood at the village gates alone. He could not find it in himself to move his legs.

Just two years ago he stood at this gate, bidding goodbye to a pink-haired girl with a tap on the forehead and a promise to see her soon. Many years before that he stood here beneath the moon, his back turned to her as she begged him to stay.

But today, Sasuke stood at the village gates alone, preparing to embark on a reconnaissance mission that could take years. Alone. As he was always meant to be.

Obviously, she was not going to come see him off, and she definitely wouldn't be begging him to stay. She knew he was leaving today. She would've been here by now, if she wanted to be.

So Sasuke shook off this thoughts of her. He took a few steps, and then a few more, and then he was out of the village once again.

Over the months, his mission took him to many villages, and he drank in all of them. Sitting in a bar on the outskirts of Sunagakure, Sasuke listened to the wind, swirling around the shochu in his cup and wondering if he was becoming an alcoholic. Lost in thought, he ignored the girl who slid into the seat beside until she spoke.

"Are you a traveller?" she asked.

Sasuke took a sip of his shochu and turned to face her. With his features, he was no stranger to female attention, and he could deflect their advances with the same ease and familiarity he could deflect punches. But what he saw startled him, his plans of polite rejection halted. The woman's hair was pink.

She laughed, her face flushed with alcohol. "That pretty much answers my question. Around here, it's become a bit of a trend. The hair, I mean." She ran a hand through her pink locks to demonstrate.

"Hmm," he responded. It was obvious why: Sakura was regarded as a hero in Suna, almost as much as she was in Konoha. In fact, it was more surprising that the same trend _hadn't_ started in Konoha. What little girl didn't want to be like Sakura? He snorted, eyeing her more closely. The color was all wrong, far too vibrant, too abrasive on the eyes. Still, it was enough to conjure images of Sakura, and as he sipped his drink he felt the dull ache of missing her.

"Are you here with anyone?" the pink-haired woman asked, leaning forward, closer to him.

He knew he should lie and say yes, but pink hair and alcohol always served to cloud his judgement. So he said, "I'm alone," and the words held a certain poignance that he hadn't intended.

The two spoke for some time in the half-empty bar, discussing nothing in particular: the pleasantries. Ayumi was talkative and open, and so was Sasuke, though everything he told her was made up. To her, he was Yuuto, a diplomat's assistant from Amegakure. As they spoke, she scooted closer to him until their shoulders bumped and he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and eventually they both sensed that the time had come to stop talking and start touching. Still, neither initiated this transition, despite Ayumi's expectant looks.

She'd had enough. "Are you going to sleep with me or not?"

With her pink hair and her laughter and the alcohol, he almost said yes. But drunk though he was, he knew sleeping with her would be a disservice to Ayumi, to himself, and to Sakura. So he apologized for wasting her time and politely said no. Alone once more, he laughed, and it was as bitter as the shochu. How many pink haired women was he going to disappoint?

* * *

Over the years since his return, Sakura had almost forgotten what life without Sasuke was like. But after he departed on his mission, she found his absence to be all too familiar. Every time he left she expected the world to end. But on this instance, as with every previous one, she found that life goes on.

Sakura found herself frequenting the nightclub, dancing as lewdly as she had at Naruto's engagement party, and it felt like revenge.

She went on a few dates with Shikamaru (if only because he was the only male that was an intellectual match), but they felt more like catching-ups with an old friend than anything romantic. So she gave her blessing when Shikamaru asked to break it off–after all, Temari was said to be arriving in Konoha soon.

As with Hinata and Naruto (and now, Shikamaru and Temari), Sakura found that her comrades were pairing off, seemingly leaving her behind as they opened new chapters in their lives. She expressed this thought to Ino, who had minutes prior been fawning over a bouquet of flowers she'd received from Sai. "At this rate, I'm going to die a lonely old hag," Sakura joked.

Ino snorted. "At least you'll have your forehead to keep you company."

Sakura laughed, but her life was a lonely one. Twelve-hour hospital shifts. The occasional trip to the nightclub. The drunken mashing of lips with nameless men. Then she would lie in her bed, exhausted yet wide awake, and permit herself to think about the dark-haired man who still, after her greatest efforts, claimed a larger part of her heart than she would ever admit in the daytime. And some nights, she cried. _I want to be in the universe where he loves me._

But still, life went on. It went on and on and on, each day just like the last–until it wasn't.

On a day that was nothing at all like the previous ones, Sakura found herself in the Hokage's office, facing her former senesi. Inwardly, she wondered if he understood her loneliness, if he felt the same himself. Outwardly, she asked, "Kakashi-sensei–I mean, Hokage-sama–why am I here?"

He handed her a tiny scroll. She unraveled it, recognizing at once the impeccably neat handwriting, the precise strokes of the kana. She quirked an eyebrow at Kakashi, to which he responded, "Read it."

It began as a normal mission report, succinct and bland as they come. Again, she gave Kakashi a look; she had nothing to do with this mission. "Keep reading," he urged her. So she did.

 _My base was ambushed by bandits. The assailants were no match, but the attack reminded me that there are a few things I'd like to be taken care of should I lose my life on this mission._

 _First, there are many cats living within the Uchiha compound._

Sakura rolled her eyes. Those damn annoying cats. Sasuke then detailed several other wishes, the tidying up of any loose ends.

 _Finally, should I die on this mission, and_ only _if I die, tell Sakura that I do. I have this entire time._

She dropped the scroll.

Her entire body trembled.

She could not find the strength to formulate words. She could not think. She could hardly breathe, her heart beating out of control. It felt as if the floor beneath her had disappeared and she was grasping for purchase, the world spinning wildly around her, yet she knew in her rational mind that she still stood in front of Kakashi. So she willed the dizzying world to stop spinning. She breathed. She swallowed. She said:

"Kakashi-sensei, he's dead?"

"Sakura…" A few moments passed between them. Hot tears began prickling her eyes when, behind the mask, Kakashi's face broke into an enormous grin. "Nope! He's alive. But I decided to show you anyway. Do you think he'll kill me?" Kakashi laughed, scratching the back of his head.

Sakura, too, let out a laugh, and her tears spilled over along with it. "Jeez, Kakashi-sensei," she muttered, wiping her eyes only for more tears to fall, "you could've saved me the trouble."

"Where is the fun in that?"

She laughed again, and though nothing was all that funny, she kept laughing. And when she finally stopped laughing, the smile remained on her face. She couldn't wipe it off, not as she left the Hokage's office, not as she returned to her grueling shift at the hospital, not as she lie wide awake that night and entertained herself with thoughts of the man who finally, finally loved her.

* * *

There was no real reason for him to return to Konoha, yet here he was, walking through the forest that hid the Leaf Village. In his note to Kakashi, he claimed that he needed to restock on supplies, but there were no supplies that he could not obtain from nearer, more convenient villages. He sighed, admitting that he simply missed home. And he was almost there. The village gates came into view.

He froze when he saw her. Confusion and wonderment and jittery excitement danced within him, though his composure remained cool. His breathing hitched and his heartbeat quickened, but he kept his pace, approaching her slowly.

Wordlessly, they watched each other, their eyes searching for so many answers. It had been so long. Sakura had almost always been there to watch him leave, but now, for the first time, she was watching him return. He was coming home, and there she waited for him.

" _She's happiest when she's with you,"_ Kakashi had said.

She wore a smile on her face like the blooming of new flowers. She looked like springtime. As he watched her, he had no choice but to believe his former sensei's words.

They were within arm's reach of one another. Sakura looked up at him with verdant eyes that granted forgiveness as well as begged for it–eyes that promised new beginnings and happiness and love, so much love. He stared back, more emotion on his face than he would ever previously allow, and silently renewed old promises to treasure and protect this pink-haired woman.

Her grin widened as her small hands wrapped around his. "You do," she whispered. "You have this entire time."

He briefly considered dashing into the Hokage's office and killing that silver-haired son-of-a-bitch who couldn't keep a damn secret. But now was not the time. So he squeezed her hands and swallowed and said, "Yeah," before pulling her into an embrace that promised many more.

* * *

Sakura watched them from the porch, laughing softly at her daughter's wild limbs and fierce battle cries. Her husband looked up at her, an exasperated look on his face–he was thinking, she knew, that their daughter was just like her mother. Sakura laughed again at his misfortune.

She wished she could join the two–now _that_ would have been a sight to see, Sasuke trying to contain both her and Sarada–but that couldn't be safe for the two little ones growing inside her. Her hand on her stomach, she felt some kicks; unsurprisingly, the twins were just as rambunctious as the rest of the family. She couldn't help but smile.

Sasuke sat beside his wife, wrapping a protective arm around her (and his soon-to-be sons). The two watched Sarada for a while, Sakura marvelling at her youth: where had the years gone? She wondered, because she had long forgotten, what the world looked like through a young Sakura's eyes. But she was more than happy with where she found herself now. She nuzzled against Sasuke a little more, failing to believe as she sometimes did that this was all real.

"Sometimes I think about the statistics of this all," Sakura muttered, voicing her thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

She looked up at him, silently making a note to cut his hair later, and proceeded to tell him about the multiverse.


End file.
